


On Seekers' Breeding Habits

by Quiet_Shadow



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: AU, M/M, Mpreg, Post-War, Slash, Sparklings, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:51:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiet_Shadow/pseuds/Quiet_Shadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-War. Starscream had plans. Seduce the Prime, gain some standing and influence and be the one in power. Except, it didn't work quite like he wanted it to, thank to some peculiar details he had forgotten about his frame-type's way to reproduce. Optimus and his wingmates, however, are far from minding the results...</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Seekers' Breeding Habits

**Author's Note:**

> Because I read too much fics about Seekers (or other 'bots) weird quirks and reproduction and I felt like writing one myself.  
> Enjoy yourselves :)

“Stop pouting. You’re starting to look ridiculous.”

Starscream crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Thundercracker with all his might. The effect was totally lost, as he laid on a pile of pillows and heat dispersing blankets, his stomach plates swollen up and his vents working fast and hard to help him cool down his insides.

“I’ll look ridiculous if I want, Primus damnit! It’s not like there is anyone here to see me, asides of you – and them,” he added, gesturing to the ground besides him. “If I had known…” he groused, turning to his side.

Thundercracker and Skywarp exchanged a look; Skywarp smirked, and Thundercracker shook his head slightly.

“We thought you knew. Frag, you were supposed to know, it was in your coding, for Pit’s sake! Primus, Star, I can’t believe you just didn’t listen to the Elders when they explained to every Seekerlings what a Trine leader’s role was!”

Starscream growled menacingly, but he didn’t rise from his pillows.

“Oh, he did listen, TC, he did listen; he just blocked out any word that didn’t rhyme or went with ‘power’, ‘prestige’ and ‘leader’”, Skywarp snickered. “He conveniently forgot the rest.”

“And you never went out of your way to remind me exactly what it entailed!” their Trine leader shrieked. Soft whines and cries were uttered in retaliation, and Starscream’s optics widened. “Oh no, no, no, don’t start crying, ‘m sorry, please don’t…” he babbled as he tried to calm down the small lifeforms crawling at his feet. He half-rose from his seat, wincing as his weight shifted hard on his sensitive ankles joints.

“No, no, don’t move!” Thundercracker said quickly as he knelt besides one of the crying sparklings, took him in his arms and put him in Starscream’s wide open arms. The tri-coloured Seeker held the little form close to him, cooing - ah! If that wasn’t a shock even to himself to play nice with kids! – gently as he rocked him back and forth. That seemed to calm the little one slightly. Thundercracker took another up in his arms and cradled him close against his canopy. Skywarp handed Starscream yet another sparkling, who was snivelling and tried to hide his face against the older Seeker’s frame.

The tri-coloured mech held the two little ones against his chest, mindful of his still growing middle, in which the next clutch of sparklings was still developing. Being so close to his spark, the two little ones calmed down quickly, and one of them – sharing Starscream’s colours, but with a pale face, a blue helm and darker blue paint – blinked sleepily.

Gently, Starscream put him on one of the biggest pillow next to him, gently caressing the little helm, while he still cradled the other seekerling close to him; the little one was now busy nibbling on his fingers. His glaze moved down, to survey the ten little Seekerlings – all painted in variant of red and blue and black, with occasional yellow or green paint streaks inherited from Starscream’s trine own creators - still dispatched on the floor, next to whom Thundercracker and Skywarp had knelt and were now patting and tickling with glee, making the seekerlings squeal with joy.

“Shouldn’t you two be guarding the edge of the nest?” he grumbled, trying to sound disgusted by their childish attitude and failing miserably. His whole being wanted to rage and rant at seeing his trinemates cuddle with the newsparks in a way unbefitting of the proud Decepticons warriors they were supposed to be. But another part of him, his core programming, was actually humming in approval at seeing his mates take such a good care of his – and their – young.

Fragging basic instincts...

Thundercracker shrugged as he cupped the helm of yet another seekeling – a little one sharing his blue paintjob with darker undertones along the arms, and with deep purple optics and what would certainly develop into a very small pair of wings – and didn’t dignify him with an answer.

Skywarp sniggered. “Oh, cool down, ‘Screamer. With the number of guards at the door and seeing how many weapons they had on them, I wouldn’t worry too much about anyone entering. We just standing guard for.... what’s the word again, TC?”

“Figuration,” answered the blue Seeker with a half-smile. “What did you expect, Star? Seeing who we shag, we’ll never be short on protection detail, so there is no need for the two of us to look big and mean in the background.”

“Unless we really want to,” piped Skywarp with a grin. Thundercracker shook his head. “We can fully take care of our kids. And since we don’t have to worry about fuel, money, comfort or anything of the sort, we don’t even have to leave your side at any time. Isn’t that great?”

“If you did, that would make my day,” groused the Red Seeker.

Thundercracker smiled. “Ah, but would you be able to take care of twelve baby seekers who’ll soon understand how to activate their thrusters while heavily carrying another clutch all by yourself, alone and without any help from our part?” he asked with a sing-song voice.

Skywarp guffawed.“Got you here, Screamer.”

Starscream gave them a venomous stare, but didn’t gratify them with a verbal answer. Pit, he hated it when they were right, and he knew there was no way he could look after more than one or two little monsters at time, so twelve... He would have preferred to take a shot from Megatron’s own cannon to the face.

Fragging Trine. And fragging programming.

Seekers went by three for practical reasons. Especially, as Starscream had for a time forgotten, for reasons surrounding their reproduction.

A trine was an aerial team fit for combat and exploration, but also for protection of a weakened member. During the war, it was more often than not due to an injury on the battlefield. In time of peace, however... what could be weaker or more vulnerable to dangers than a carrier?

A trine leader was a prime carrier. Oh, this was bad, bad joke, mused Starscream.

So... carrying.

That’s what was pissing Starscream off royally.

Carrying was something Seekers took very seriously, as much as siring – or any other way of procreating, be it going to receive an adult spark from Vector Sigma or budding a new mech from your own mass and spark. But, well, ‘normal’ reproduction was a big deal.

New life was sacred. Especially now they had managed to exterminate more than half of their species in a fruitless war.

It was a myth of some sort that Seekers were naturally good with sparklings. In truth, they were only good at taking care of their own or other flying models, or eventually, Praxians-styled sparklings, whose doorwings movement shared some characteristics with the Seekers’ own wings language. But ground pounders sparklings were confusing the Pit out of them, since they didn’t react like seekerlings or didn’t develop the same way. Which was Vosians kinda avoided to jump non-seekers.

Then again, to be sparked by a ground pounder wasn’t a problem for Seekers; their codes were mostly dominants, and every sparklings they carried or sired would get wings or, at the very least, flight capacity. That, they could deal with. But a sparkling or a youngling that couldn’t fly, a child who didn’t understand their language, or the subtle way they moved their wings, the way the winds were blowing?

Not a clue, unfortunately, unless someone handed them a manual. And there was no ‘official’ manual about how to take care of a sparkling. In the end, they were lucky if the kid was still in one piece when it was handed back to his parents. Rumours had it for a time, after a few ‘incidents’ caused by lack of understanding, that Seekers were barbaric models who would kill any infants. Again, an exaggeration, propaganda used by stupid mechs to make the Seekers more feared, more isolated.

In truth, Seekers weren’t better or worse than any kind of frame when it came to have a sparkling or raise him or her. They just did it differently. But, to be perfectly honest, everyone on Cybertron who belonged to a specific caste or who had a special frame type did so, which caused no small amounts of culture shocks.

There really were a lot of differences between the different Emirates of Cybertron.

Most mechs and femmes on Cybertron only carried a sparkling at time, aside from the very rare twins. They organized themselves in family units reminiscent of the humans on Earth, with a ‘male’ creator providing the fuel and a ‘female’ creator taking care of the sparkling and the house (though most femmes were actually the providers and the mechs the helpless carriers; as they were bulkier and had more mass and energy to spare, they were better fitted for bearing young).

But it wasn’t always the case. For example, Seekers rarely carried a single spark at time, but almost always had multiple pregnancies. That puzzled many ‘bots.

Minibots were also different; they usually carried two sparks a time – not ‘twins’, but two actual, separate sparklets –, and used to live in small communities in which they raised their children together; the kids were usually left under the watchful optics of the mech or femme who didn’t have a work shift at the moment, while everyone else worked. Kids didn’t care much who really were their parents, and called indifferently all the adults ‘Carrier’ or ‘Sire’. They formed big, happy families, with their own twists; nobody could ever be sure they weren’t shagging their actual creators or any other relatives (not that it really was an issue for them like it was for the humans).

The idea would have horrified the flesh-bags. Starscream wondered if the yellow Minibot had ever shared this little insight with his human friend...

Nobles too had their own system, one which was just as twisted and infuriating as any other; you could only be considered of noble birth if your carrier was a Noble. If you were a Noble, you could get shagged by any mech you wanted, be it the more brutish and uncouth mech on Cybertron, even if you ended carrying, you would be assured the child would be born to a life of privilege. But any child born to a commoner was considered a commoner himself, and as such, not the responsibility of the Noble who sired him.

Ah, the beauty of ‘matriarchal’ lines. It was, in a way, a good way to collect codes from different ‘bots to form generations after generations of ‘elite’ mechs and femmes.  
The downside, it was how unlucky you were if you were sparked on the wrong side of the barrier.

Most of the sparkless fraggers let their one time lovers and bastards children fend for themselves, although some were decent enough to at least pay for the sparklings’ needs and education. Sometimes, if the kids were brilliants enough and started to make a name for themselves in science, combat, art, anything really, they would be approached for siring a sparkling with a well-born noble. Even if it was a bastard, he would have proved his worth, in a way. But to actually ask him to do more, and be part of his future child’s life? It was unheard of.

Hatred toward that system was strong in the lower classes of the population, most of which had joined the Decepticons side during the war, many of which were by-products of illicit affairs with thrill-seeking Nobles or ‘bots who had moneyed their services out of necessity. Starscream had known some mechs like that in the Decepticons ranks, and almost all of them had cheered when the Towers had been brought down.

Starscream half-suspected the classes system was one of the reason the red Minibot, Cliff-something, hated the Spy named Mirage so much. If the Minibot was an abandoned bastard child, he could resent all nobles. Perhaps he even was Mirage half-sibling or cousin? Hum, if so, he would look forward for more interaction between them, observe them, and mess with them some. Had he mentioned he really hated Mirage? Anything to mess with his CPU was good for him...

Frag; here he was, the former SIC of the Decepticons, planning petty revenge on a mech he hadn’t seen in orns! He was bored out of his mind, here!

So... Minibots and Nobles had their style, and so had the Praxians, small communities of Femmes along Polyhex, Cassettes holders,... Everyone had his rules to make sure to spark and raise a new generation to the best of their abilities.

Minibots loved communities. Seekers... Seekers worked as Trine. Three against them all. Or bigger groups, but it was rarer. One to fight, two to watch his back. But, to reproduce, they added a fourth or more to the mix.

Marriage as seen by the squishies on Earth was an unknown concept to Cybertronians. Only a handful of ‘bots really sparkbonded. Some created partial bonds, without actually sharing sparks. And most just enjoyed a good time, sometimes for all their lifespan, without being nothing more than casual lovers.

As long as you were honest with your partner(s) and registered your situation to the appropriate administrations, you could share your berth with anyone you wanted.

Seekers... rarely mated for life. They just chose a partner, got kids, and chose to stay or not with the Sire, though they wouldn’t be upset if the aforementioned Sire left. It was all a matter of personal preference and affection.

Of course, like almost all Cybertronians, Seekers tended to prefer their own breed (better to have more guardians around), but sometimes, a ground bound mech would catch their optics, would be carefully evaluated – physically and mentally, to determinate if his codes were valuables or if any default made him void as a potential mate – and the whole Trine would concert together before reaching an agreement, for a potential Sire wasn’t just a Sire for one member of the Trine, but for the three of them.

Usually, the Trine approached the potential mate, courted him, and then jumped him together, most of the time during the heat period of one of the three, which tricked his two wing mates’ sensors into producing the same CNA charged nanites as him. In the end, the three of them ended up carrying a whole Trine between them, and sometimes more under favourable circumstances or with a very prolific Sire and very fertile carriers.

It was usually the only time the three members of a Trine carried together, as a way to show their trust toward each other and reinforce their links.

When Starscream had been young, the records had spoken of a Conehead-typed Trine having had six sparklings split between the three of them. Well, he mused, his trinemates and he had definitively broken that record.

So... back to carrying. Starscream glared at his bulging stomach’s plates.

For the two wing mates, it was usually where it ended; interface could still happen between them and the chosen Sire, but was least likely in ending in a pregnancy. However, in some case, as soon as the Trine leader’s sparklings were old enough to toddle around and flip their little wings, the Trine leader could spontaneity enter into another heat cycle.

Why? Nobody really knew, but studies seemed to show that heat cycles became more frequent when there weren’t enough flyers in the vicinity. As such, there were known cases of Seekers families, being the only flyers living in a town or in a city block, which were almost continuously in heat. And groundpounders often wondered why flyers chose to stay in Vos, thank you very much; hey, Seekers liked intimacy and physical contact, but to be continually in a sexual frenzy? You had to have a few screws loose to want it.

Other thought everything turned around a special brand of coding, installed into them by the Elders Seekers when a new Trine formed and they approved of the match. In the Seeker’s tradition, a Leader was to be revered and protected; making him the main carrier of new clutches of Seekerlings was another way to reinforce his wingmates protectiveness toward him.

So, the Trine leader continued carrying regularly and frequently, and the other two guarded the nest and the sparklings and younglings, protected the carrier and played with the little ones, fed them, bathed them, everything young sparks needed.

As for the Sire, he provided for them all, giving them a roof, money, comfort, protection, love and care, participating to the sparklings education and taking care of the ‘needs’ of the Trine leader and, when they reached their own, rare, heat cycles, the two wing mates.

Again, it had something to do with coding, and perhaps instincts. A Trine knew each other best and barely trusted outsiders, even their own sparkling Sire(s). The Sire was convenient and often helpful, but a Seeker only really trusted a Seeker with his security, and the security of his kin and offsprings. A carrying wingmate of a lower status than Trine Leader was... an impaired mech. One who couldn’t protect the family.

So, as a general rule, lower ranked wingmates didn’t have a particular interest in interfacing (well, Thundercracker didn’t, anyway, though he liked heavy petting times almost every day, but Skywarp was certainly belying the tale). And their own heat cycles were very rare; basically, for one of their own cycles, their leader had at least six or seven, on an average.

That was how it worked, as far as everyone knew.

That’s it, until Starscream got involved.

If the tricoloured Seeker had know what he was going into, he would have shot himself the moment he had the ‘bright’ idea to seduce a high ranked Autobot and win a good position in the new order establishing itself on Cybertron.

Damn Megatron for losing the War. And damn Thundercracker and Skywarp for listening to him and for backing him up.

And damn his creators for having been a bunch of nonconformist ‘bots, who didn’t think a Trine should always be together, nor should they all shag the same ‘bot. Damn his Carrier for having been one of the rare femme Seekers, who had different codes from mechs, and never had any other sparkling aside of him (a rarity; almost all Seekers had at least two siblings. Starscream knew Skywarp had some, as well as Thundercracker, but that most of them hadn’t survived past the first great battles of the War. Bad luck, that, but slag happens). And damn his Sire, who had been just as eccentric as her mate.

And... Well, damn himself for not having thought this plan through before he acted.

But double damn Thundercracker and Skywarp for getting him into this situation. They had known, the rust-infected slaggers!

________________________________________

“You knew it would happen,” he accused them, murder clear in his optics. “You knew!”

“Star’, you don’t harm a carrying mech,” singsong Thundercracker, taking a step back as Starscream made and attempt to strangle him.

Starscream cried in frustration and make a show of pacing the room. Despite being only in his first orn of carrying, he was already bulging. Thundercracker and Skywarp’s frames too had started to change, but not quite as badly as his.

“One sparkling! Just one! Perhaps two if I was unlucky! But no! You know what that damn medic just told me? Just of many that fragging son of a glitch ...” Starscream snarled.

“That’s not a nice way to speak of the father of your children,” piped Skywarp with a grin.

“... that lustful slagger managed to Sire in me! Six! Six spawns!” wailed Starscream, throwing a precious vase over the floor as he let his anger take the best of him.

Thundercracker and Skywarp exchanged a surprised look.

“Wow...six? Really? Didn’t think there would be more than four...” mused Skywarp out loud.  
Starscream let out a piercing scream and threw himself at the purple and black Seeker. Thundercracker tried to separate them and placating his tri-coloured trinemate.

“Starscream, calm down. No killing ‘Warp, please. We did nothing,” he said, as Starscream turned a murderous glare at him. “Don’t look at me like that, Scree. We really did nothing to make you end up with so many. You wanted to end up carrying, weren’t you? We certainly weren’t the ones riding that spike relentlessly while moaning in delight. What were you expecting, with the number of times he overloaded into you? Pit, there was always fluid dripping onto your thighs, and you actually inflated once!”

Starscream blushed and muttered something insulting, but let finally go of Skywarp. It wasn’t his fault after the first couple of overloads, he hadn’t been able to stop himself. Fragging codes... And fragging Prime for not having repeled him, even when it had been clear he had been exhausted himself.

“You both knew there would be more than one. You. Both. Knew.” He said again.

Thundercracker nodded.

“There are some legends about the Matrix and his powers, Starscream. Some are less known than others, especially the ones where sparklings appear. But it’s a known fact that mechs and femmes around the Primes had an easier time having big families.”

“And that would be... because of the Matrix?”

“It’s the best guess we could make. You just proved it’s very real indeed.”

“You set me up,” he accused the blue Seeker.

“You set yourself up yourself, Starscream,” corrected Thundercracker. “You’re the one who came, alone, to the conclusion that seducing the Prime would grant you more power than simply remaining a figure-head for what remains of the Decepticons. You’re the one who chose him as the Sire for the three of us. We just... agreed with you because of practicality.”

“Practicality?” asked Starscream, arms crossed over his chest.

“Have you ever thought of our species, Starscream? Really thought about it?” asked Skywarp, with a rare serious. Starscream frowned.

Thundercracker sighed. He doesn’t see the point, ‘Warp. Let me explain to him.”

He looked at his leader in the optics. “We aren’t so many Vosians left, Star’. A handful, even with the few Coneheads trine stationed around Kaon or those Rainmakers, or the few odds ones stationed on asteroid and bases across Cybertron trade routes, and most of them are too young yet to try to start a family. A mech like the Prime, Scree... it was a gift from Primus. You’re carrying six? ‘Warp is carrying four, and me two. Between the three of us, there are three future Trines in the making. Twelve seekerlings.”

“Twelve!” Gasped Starscream in shock. Thundercracker put his hands and his Leader’s shoulders.

“Twelve, yes; the most any Trine ever produced in one go. The biggest hope of our species, Starscream. All because of you.”

His optics blazed. “We want to have many sparklings, Star’. All of us: ‘Warp, me, and the four Trines which came with us in Iacon when you chose to move, as an ‘honour guard’. We could have stayed with the ‘Cons to find a good Sire, but really, most of them aren’t so bright, or good Sire material. Aside perhaps of Soundwave, but none of us can stand the Cassettes for long, so he was out. Autobots are fools, but worthy fools.”

“And, without any prompting from our part, you just had to chose to nail the one mech on the whole planet who can boost your fertility just by energy field contact,” giggled Skywarp. “It was too good to pass up, Scree. Just too good.”

Thundercracker gave him a look before continuing.

“When you chose Optimus Prime as a potential mate, and when he started to respond to your advances, it was like Primus was answering all our prayers. Many of us don’t put too much stock into your plans” – Starscream glared at him – “but this one, this one... Perhaps you aren’t happy with how things are turning out, but frag! We are!” Thundercrakcer almost shouted.

“There is a lot of attractive Autobots around, some good potential Sires if the others can drag them in their berth. And they spend so much time around the Prime, on the pretence of being ‘bodyguards’ for him, that they will most likely produce more than one child each.  
You’re saving us, Scree. Perhaps it wasn’t your real plan, but you’re saving us Seekers from extinction. And for that, we could never thank you enough,” he finished, softly kissing his Trineleader’s lips.

Starscream stayed stunned for almost a full joor. Then he sneered, like if it didn’t affect him. Which was false, because he had never seen Thundercracker look at him like that, like a fragging hero, nor had he ever gazed at him with such amused tenderness.  
It felt... good.

“Well... of course I’m saving us. When I’m taking my rightful place as Prime’s consort and I could issue orders for his troops, then...”

Skywarp coughed not-so-discretely.

“Hum, Star’? When are you planning of becoming a military advisor and right-hand mech, exactly? You realize you’ll have six kids to raise, right? Twelve of them, in fact, because you will have to help with ours too?”

Starscream shrugged. “Of course, of course. But as soon as the sparkling will be old enough to be away from me without ill consequences, I shall put them in the care of the best caretakers the planet has to offer, and return to work, where I...”

Skywarp giggled. Thundercracker hit him over the head lightly, to make a point, but he was smiling. Or at least, trying not to, but without success. Starscream frowned, a sinking feeling settling into him.

“What are you two hiding from me again?” he asked suspiciously.

His trinemates exchanged a look and elbowed each other, talking on a private channel. Finally, Thundercracker sighed.

“Star’... you’re trine leader. We are only a handful left. Your codes are going to act like crazy...”

“Meaning?” groused Starscream, definitely ill-at-ease and angry.

“... You’re probably going to enter another heat cycle as soon as your kids are old enough to walk.”

The scream of rage of Starscream was so loud he could be heard at the very edge of Iacon...

________________________________________

Starscream shook his head and checked out the sparkling next to him. He was still sleeping. The other one, who he was still carrying, was nuzzling him.

“Is ‘Mama Starscream’ still angry at us?” asked Skywarp as he tugged gently on the wings of one of his sparkling, who giggled and pawned at him, making Skywarp smiles like an idiot. Which he was, in Starscream’s opinion.

“Oh, don’t laugh like that,” groused Starscream, “Because if he has such an effect on my own systems, you can bet he’s also affecting yours. And I already picture a return of ‘Mama Warp’ in least than twenty vorn.”

Meaning, thrice faster than usual for a lower Trine member. Take, that, you traitor, he thought with some satisfaction. Of course, Skywarp ruined his pleasure.

Skywarp smiled. “I wouldn’t mind that much, you know? Sure, the birth in itself was a pain, what with expulsing them from my valve like that, but I just love those kids! And nursing isn’t so bad, I’ll tell you. Come on, even you started to enjoy it; don’t lie, I saw you giggling when Darksky started sucking on you!”

“Well, he better enjoys it, seeing he will do it again in no time,” smiled Thundercracker.

Starscream glared at them but didn’t add anything. He couldn’t claim it was false, after all. Nursing had felt weird at first, and still did at some level, but it wasn’t a bad kind of weird. “Well, I shouldn’t be the one nursing Darksky,” he groused. “He’s your son, not mine.”

Skywarp shrugged. “I don’t produce enough sparkling-grade energon on my own, Star’; as it is, I barely produce enough for two, and TC was nice enough to take on feeding my third, and even then, you know he can’t do it all the time. You’re the only one here who has enough to feed almost all of them without a problem. Another perk of being Trineleader, I guess.”

“True. Trineleader make the best wet-nurse,” confirmed Thundercracker with a smirk.

Starscream was ready to scream at him one again when there was noise outside the door, and the distinctive sound of several security locks opening. The three adult Seekers exchanged a look.

“Seems ‘Dad’ is home,” said Skywarp as he left the little ones on the floor to go and greet their lover.  
________________________________________

Optimus Prime nodded at his escort of young Sekkers, who saluted him before leaving him at the door, before the sanctuary of his personal apartments. From the corner of his optics, he saw them giggling and giving looks at the two Autobots guarding the doors – and he saw one of them, Kup to be precise, smiling at them in return.  
Shaking his head at the semi-obvious flirting, Optimus let the door close and lock behind him and gently hugged the black Seeker who threw himself at him, letting his hands row lower and lower, gently squeezing Skywarp’s aft. The Seeker giggled and swapped his hands away.

“Not right here, you big pervert,” he chided him gently, though his arms were tightly laced around the blue and red mech’s waist. “There’re sparklings here.”

Optimus chuckled. “Big pervert? Next to you, I think I’m as innocent as a Primus herald. Did you have a good day, the three of you?” he asked with a soft kiss and Skywarp’s helm as he led the Seeker toward the centre of the room.

Thundercracker temporarily let his attention waver from the little ones to look up at the Prime’s hulking frame. “Like always, Optimus. Aside of Starscream’s usual snipping, it was a very good day indeed.”

Starscream snorted. “Oh please,...” he muttered.

Optimus let out a full, booming laugher as he helped Thundercracker stand up and hugged him too, gently rubbing the blue Seeker’s wings in slow, soothing motion. Thundercracker purred in delight at the touch. Oh, they had trained the Prime well.

“As much as I would like a good wing massage right now, I think there is someone else you must properly greet,” he said, regretfully letting go of his lover.

Optimu nodded. “You’re right, I forget all my duties.”

Starscream pouted. He hated it when Optimus Prime started to flirt with his wingmates and didn’t pay him what he considered to be proper attention. And it seemed he wasn’t going to receive his attention just now, too.

“Good night cycle, my loves,” said the Prime, crouching over the floor, mask retracted. He was instantly swarmed by his creations, each eager to climb on him. Laughing gently at their antics, he gathered as much as he could in his arms for a group hug, making his little ones chirping in delight. He sat down cross-legged on the floor, letting the mechlings climb more easily on him. Gently, he caught one in his hands and levelled him to his face, gently nuzzling the delicate little being – Windblast, one of Thundercracker’s sons – who giggled at him. A soft revving sound let him know Red Alert’s not-so-secret for him cameras were recording the moment.

Ah, dear Red Alert... From the moment the three Seekers had come to Iacon as sort-of emissary in order to improve the disastrous relations between the remains of the Decepticons and the Autobots slowly rebuilding most of Cybertron, he just couldn’t accept that Starscream and his wingmates had no ill-intention, and insisted to have them under constant watching. Optimus could understand him; he too had been and was still a bit suspicious of Starscream’s motives, even after getting the Seeker’s carrying the first time.

So he had agreed for the installation of cameras in the main living area of the apartment, as a mean to keep an optic on the three ‘potential spies’. But since none of them had done anything suspicious (despite Starscream sudden mood-swings and tendencies to rant about how his plans had all been shot down) since they started living here, the cameras main function had become to record every single moments of Optimus sparklings’ lives.

He still wondered sometimes what the three of them had expected to do when they approached him with the clear intent to jump him. He could understand Starscream’s need to become a high-ranked member of the new order, if only to make sure he could look after his best interests and those of the mechs who followed him, and Optimus had needed someone with a Decepticon background by his side to make clear he didn’t intend to persecute the losers. There had been too much hatred, too much pain caused by the war for the Autobots and the Decepticons to trust each other just yet. Some Autobots still wanted revenge, and some Decepticons just didn’t trust they would simply be let off the hook. But they needed at least a modicum of trust to go forward and start rebuilding.

Starscream’s arrival had been a major step up, in a way. One of Megatron’s last high ranking officers still alive, and having more than half the old Decepticons army following him, he still had an important enough notoriety for his decisions to have a deep impact for every mechs and femmes wearing the purple brand.

If he was willing to come to the Autobots’ capital to try and make a treaty and represent the interests of the losing group, then there was hope the rift between the factions could be mended. Then the Seeker had started... flirting with him. Badly. Very badly, even. Optimus wasn’t the most subtle mech, but even he could see what Starscream was intending to do when he bended over to pick up that datapad, giving the Prime a good view of his aft. A very nice aft, as Optimus had mused at the time, wondering what he should do about the Seeker’s obvious interest.

Prowl had advised he humours the Seeker and take him as a lover, if only to boost the Prime’s campaign. Jazz had shrugged and said he trusted him to do the good choice. Ironhide hadn’t been happy a ‘Con had tried to make a move on his old friend, but grudgingly admitted that sleeping with the enemy could give them more information on what the ‘Cons were preparing. Red Alert had been on the fritz, citing security breaches. And Ratchet had taken him aside to explain to him all the ways he could cause or avoid a pregnancy.

Optimus had thought hard and long about the pros and the cons. On one hand, Starscream was a very attractive mech, and so were his two wingmates, who also made optics at him; ‘facing with a whole Trine was the secret phantasm of many a mech. On the other hand, Starscream also had a rather vitriolic personality Optimus found often enough overbearing, and his trinemates also seemed to have their own agendas, without speaking of the twelve other Seekers who came with them. But Starscream was also competent and good at what he did, or Megatron would never have made him his Second. So there certainly was a tactical advantage here.

In the end, lust (and diplomacy) had gained the upper hand. Shagging three Decepticons and having them at his arm during reunions, charities and galas had made wonders for the development of the tentative peace. Everyone was winning, in a way: Starscream was acknowledged, Optimus had his better standing in the Decepticon’s crowd, and Thundercracker and Skywarp seemed very happy to share his berth.

That Starscream and both Skywarp and Thundercracker had ended up heavily pregnant soon after was an unforeseen consequence, but one he was very happy with. He had always wanted a large family, and with three mechs avidly gripping his spike whenever they could, it would end up larger than in his dream.

Nobody saw anything wrong with him scoring three Seekers – as it was a cultural thing. Some mechs had stared, because, well, it was those Seekers, the Elite Trine of Megatron, but nobody made too much fuss. The simple fact he had sparklings with a former Decepticon commander was seen as further proof of his good will and intentions toward the losers of the Great War.

But he wasn’t stupid; he knew Starscream had tried and was still trying to use him, probably to gain more power than he already had as one of his official consorts (even if Starscream didn’t acknowledge it fully, both his trinemates shared his status). Optimus could deal with it. Starscream attempted manipulations were far more harmless than some which had been attempted by various surviving nobles and politicians. If he had thought Decepticons were bad, he now knew some mechs were much, much worse.

Next to them, Starscream was... tame. And actually looking for more profit than simply his own. It might not have started this way, of course, but whatever it had originally been; Starscream’s plans had backfired on him, to say the least. Now, he couldn’t really plan harmful anything as long as he was busy taking care of his babies, and Thundercracker had plainly told him Starscream would continue entering heat cycles until his codes deemed the flyer population was high enough to stop. Which could take a long time, as high enough was vaguely answered by ‘less than a hundred, but more than fifty. Somewhere around sixty or seventy, give or take a few’.

_-_-_

(Optimus hadn’t fainted. No. He had just asked Thundercracker how long it would take for a population of one hundred Seekers to form in Iacon, while feeling his sparks beats like crazy. Then Optimus had had a long, long conversation with his officers, most notably Ironhide and Ratchet, who were older than the rest, and were a bit more knowledgeable on the number of offspring a Cybertronian could produce in his life.

After talking to them, and being pointed out that, according to their mythology (which was almost as good as fact), the original population of Cybertron was of thirteen mechs and counted several millions of individual before the war, even with adults mechs and femmes created by Vector Sigma, their answer was: quite a lot.

From their own account, Ratchet never had any offspring of his own that he knew of, although he had a sneaking suspicion someone hadn’t been very honest with him at some point, and Ironhide had managed to confess, between clenched dental plates, that Cliffjumper, Brawn and Gear were all descendants of him at various degrees. He claimed to never have sired more than a dozen or so sparkling, but remained close-lipped on how many he had carried. Optimus, however, was certain the one he was curetnly carryin, a ‘gift’ from Chromia, wasn’t the first.

Optimus hadn’t felt better after this particular discussion. Talking with Kup, he had learned the old mech had personally carried more than three dozens of sparkling himself and sired twice as many during his younger years, and still had all the records to prove it. It did little to reassure Optimus, but showed him it was quite possible.)

_-_-_

Even with the other Trines searching for partners of their own (one of them had even started making optics at Kup, of all the mechs, who was responding in kind, showing he was quite ready to have more offspring of his own), that would make the Prime the happy father of dozens and dozens of little ones by way of Starscream’s reproductive chamber. Not that he really, really minded; he liked feeling Starscream’s body writhing under his, and he liked playing with the various sparklings their coupling had produced.

But he had the nagging worry that some, if not most of them, would be a tribute to their Carrier and share his vitriolic personality, sharp wits and quick glossa.

As for Skywarp and Thundercracker, well... They seemed happy to have sparklings, and had clearly told him they would like some more. Considering the way they made love to him and how... determinate they were, he certainly couldn’t refuse them. They didn’t seem to want anything else, for now anyway.

Yes. He would end up with a big family, larger than anything he could have imagined.

And strangely, he liked it.

Gently getting the little ones of him, and promising himself to take one or two orns off to spend more time with them, the Prime finally turned toward his final lover and his biggest source of worries, frustration and amusement.

“So, I’m the last one you greet, you sorry excuse of a mech?” asked Starscream with a sneer, arms crossed over his chest defiantly. “How uncouth of you; I’m the one who’s carrying your next bunch of brats. I should be the one you most revere.”

Ah, Starscream... forever the drama queen. But Optimus had started to take a strong liking to his antics; Starscream was always attention starved, as if he feared if he wasn’t standing in the light, everybody would forget him. Optimus didn’t think so. He certainly would never forget the cries of pleasure, the shouts for him to go faster, harder, and the way the tight valve he penetrated regularly clenched around his spike as the Seeker overloaded...  
Nor would he ever forget the way Starscream clung to him in recharge, nor the things he said in recharge, nor the way he smiled at their infants when he thought nobody was watching him.  
No. Starscream was unforgettable. But it didn’t mean Optimus wouldn’t tease him as much as he could, just to get him to react a bit.

“And I do revere you, Starscream,” answered the Prime with an half-smile and a small pat on Starscream’s head as he sat next to him, taking the red Seeker’s hands in his and letting them drop on Starscream’s abdominal plating. He smiled wider when he felt a little kick ramming his mate’s frame under their joined hands.

“I revere you, love. I revere every inch of you, from those beautiful optics of you to the inside of your thrusters.” And other, more enjoyable body parts, but it was hardly appropriate to speak of it before the children, even if they wouldn’t understand. One of his hands let go of Starscream and started to slide along the Seeker’s waist, in a gentle caress. “But I must say, they aren’t only my brats, they are yours too. Actually, they’re future brats sorely because of you,” he chuckled.

Starscream sputtered. “Now wait here you...!”

Optimus smiled at him, and without letting Starscream the time to gather his wits, he bended over him and kissed him gently but firmly, letting him know he would not hear another word. Starscream made a soft sound of protest, but eventually melted into the kiss, returning it with gusto after a few breems. Optimus allowed himself a chuckle.

Starscream pressed deeper against his lover and pushed his glossa into Optimus’ mouth. Ah, damn... he wanted more than a kiss. He wanted to be sure the Prime didn’t forget who he was and how much pleasure he could give him. And he really, really needed someone to take care of his rising arousal.

No, he wasn’t always starving for interface; not with Prime, anyway. It was only his screwed up codes which made him seek the Prime’s contact so much. It certainly wasn’t because he was really starting to really, really like the big, soft-sparked idiot, who gave him massages and kisses and more overloads he actually cared to count. It certainly wasn’t either because the mech actually listened to his ideas and didn’t laugh at them, ever, and treated him with more respect the entire Decepticon army had ever showed him. Nope. Not at all.

Starscream moved the Prime’s hand until it rested between his thighs, pressing against his warming panel. “Someone is very happy to see me, it seems,” murmured the Prime.

Starscream snorted. “I can’t help what my body wants.”

“I’m very sure it’s only your body,” answered Optimus very seriously, taking Starscream in his laps, mindful of his stomach plates, and rubbed his hands all over him, making Starscream purr in delight. The Seeker enjoyed heavy petting and overloads more than he cared to tell.

On the floor, the little ones chirped happily, understanding ‘Mommy’ and ‘Daddy’ were here and happy.

Skywarp whistled. Thundercracker just shook his head, smiling, and pretended to cover the optics of one of his creations.

“You two take a room, please.”

“Gladly,” purred the Prime, taking Starscream in his arms, and carrying him toward the door of their room. Time to show, once again, how much he loved Starscream... when he wasn’t being a true bastard.

“Insatiable git,” groused Starscream. Optimus chuckled as he deposited him on the large berth. “No more than you, my precious, beautiful Star’. No more than you.”


End file.
